


Attenuated

by roebling



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fat Character, M/M, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-13
Updated: 2012-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 01:50:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roebling/pseuds/roebling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <a href="http://eledhwenlin.dreamwidth.org/697021.html">Bandom Kinkfest</a> for <a href="http://kinetikatrue.dreamwidth.org/">kinetikatrue</a>'s prompt: <i>This may or not be the correct thing to call this, but, uh, something about how Pete was really into Patrick being larger: cuddly and good for leaning against and really able to cover Pete when they did shit. Now that Patrick's slimmed down, it's all weird. Did Patrick do it on purpose, as a way of shedding that relationship along with his negative self-image and all his other FOB baggage?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Attenuated

**Author's Note:**

> Please be advised this contains references to weight loss and body size that may be triggering for those with sensitivity to such issues. Please proceed with that in mind :) 
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://eledhwenlin.dreamwidth.org/697021.html?thread=4060349#cmt4060349) on 1/21/2012.

Afterward, they lay in bed, not touching.

It is different this time in a thousand little and several very important ways: Pete's coming out the wrong side of a showboat marriage and the band is on hiatus which they both know is PR speak for all-but-fucking-finished and Patrick ... Patrick is so different these days that if Pete didn't know him deep, like in his bones, he wouldn't even recognize him. The hats are gone, and the faux timidity, and Patrick is a lot less than he once was.

He rolls over, heavily, and throws his arm over Patrick's waist. His nose is mashed into the blanket. It's not very comfortable.

Pinned lightly down, Patrick squirms.

"Cut it out," Pete says into the blanket. "I'm trying to cuddle you."

"We should never have done this," Patrick says. That old familiar note of worry is in his voice. "I swore I wouldn't do this again."

"I know," Pete says. "I know. You're leaving too, on your way to bigger and better things." His fingers inch lower, to the gentle swell of flesh below Patrick's navel, and he squeezes hard. "Doesn't feel bigger, though."

"Stop it," Patrick says, not sounding pleased, pushing Pete's hands away from his stomach. "Pete, I'm seriously going to leave if you don't ..."

"Just stay for a little while," Pete says. He rolls closer, presses his face into Patrick's shoulder. This conversation is best had without eye-contact. "Remember the last time?" he says.

"I remember," Patrick says, voice low.

Last time had been a long time ago, coming up on four years now, and back then Patrick had been ...

"You were so cuddly," Pete says mournfully. "You were so roly-poly."

He'd never been bigger than he'd been that last time. Pete gets some strange thrill, thinking that. He wishes he knew the number, but that he never dared ask. He remembers the way Patrick's belly had curved so voluptuously. Pale, and soft, and perfect, it had hung down and wobbled when Patrick knelt, round ass up in the air and head cradled in his crossed arms, waiting for Pete ...

That had been a pretty fucking awesome view. Pete wishes he'd taken a picture.

"I miss it," he says, petulant.

"I don't," Patrick says. "Nobody else does."

"I don't know why," Pete says. "You were so ... thick. It was delicious."

It had been. It had been luscious, the way Patrick had been so plush and heavy. He denied it, will always deny it, but Patrick is a cuddler at heart and Pete had loved to wrap his arms around Patrick. He'd loved to tease the little roll of flesh that popped up when Patrick leaned forward, above the bigger softer rolls of his belly and below the curves of his chest. He'd loved to bite the insides of Patrick's thighs, which were so pale and had the most pillowy give. He'd loved to put his hands on Patrick's round, fat ass and squeeze until there were vivid red marks in the shapes of his finger tips.

There had been so much of Patrick back then, more and more flesh to explore as the years went on, but Pete had known and loved every single inch. He'd known Patrick better than he'd known himself, better than he'd ever known anyone else.

And Patrick had known him too. How else would he have been able to sing Pete's words like he did?

But now Patrick is thin and when Pete wraps his arms around him it's like wrapping his arms around a stranger. Could be anyone.

"Only you thought that," Patrick says, annoyed and stiff. "Nobody else thought I was ..."

"Not true," Pete says. "Everyone thought you were adorable. Like a teddy bear. You're the one who thought it was disgusting."

Patrick makes an irritated noise and pushes Pete's arms away. He sits up. The blanket falls down and Pete can see the line of vertebrae down the center of his back.

"I did think it was disgusting," Patrick says quietly. "I was disgusting, and I feel a lot fucking better now. That's matters now. How I feel."

That cuts to the quick.

Pete's an introvert. He's good at paying attention to himself, but other people? Well ... most of them aren't that interesting anyway. And he thought that Patrick was the exception, that Patrick's excesses (excess talent, excess patience, excess flesh) were enough to make up for all the things that Pete was lacking. He thought that Patrick was the one person who had enough left over to give. Maybe, though, he'd just been ignoring Patrick, like the stupid asshole dickhead he is.

Could be. Might be. Probably.

"I shouldn't have come," Patrick says. "We should have met at a restaurant or something. I am really sorry, Pete, but ..."

"I get it," he says. "It's fine. You're looking out for yourself these days. Gotta avoid good old Petey like the plague."

"Pete," Patrick says, warning. "Don't do this."

"No," Pete says. "It's fine. Seriously."

He stares at the ceiling. Patrick is putting his clothing back on: zippers zip, buttons button.

"Sorry," Pete says. He really means it. He might be a selfish asshole but he knows that Patrick's one of the best things that's ever happened to him. He never meant to hurt him, not egregiously anyway.

But it's too late. Patrick's just a shadow, and then he's gone.


End file.
